“You’re pressing… a little too hard.” Zhao Changhe studied her for a moment, then suddenly reached out and wiped at the corner of her lips. “Look, it’s a mess now.”0

Ye Jiuyou did not even think to resist. His calloused fingers had already brushed away a trace of crimson from her lips.0

Unlike the accidental touches in past battles, or even the brief clasping of hands she had dismissed without a thought, this was the first time they had drawn so close by their own volition. It crossed the line of an ordinary relationship between a man and woman, yet Ye Jiuyou did not feel the least bit disturbed. If anything, her heart even began beating a little faster.0

From a man who once believed that women only interfered with the speed one could draw their saber, Zhao Changhe had walked a long road. After experiencing romances with all kinds of temperaments, if the level at which he understood women’s hearts was not already at the level of the Ranking of Heaven, then it was at least at the level of the Ranking of Earth. Meanwhile, Ye Jiuyou had lived in eternal solitude, untouched by tenderness. How could she possibly guard against the approach of someone of his caliber?0

They say a simpering fool could never get a girl, but that was not always true.0

At the very least, for a woman like Ye Jiuyou, who had never really known what it meant to be cared for, this was exactly the kind of approach that worked.0

Of course, one could not simply grovel endlessly and blindly. One had to strike a balance... a dance of closeness and restraint, inching ever forward. Like a devil’s hand plucking the strings of the heart, each stroke sending ripples that refused to fade.0

So when Zhao Changhe turned and said, “Put it on yourself. I won’t look,” Ye Jiuyou did not even find it odd. She simply bit her lip, stared at his back for a long...0